


Funny Little Things

by LeapAngstily



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Current sexuality: Pirlo's beard, Fluffy like whoa, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vintage wine and a lapful of Riccardo – exactly the kind of situation Andrea wants to have a conversation in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funny Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I got on Tumblr: _"Monto/Pirlo's beard (Gigi/Pirlo's beard): Gigi being touchy feely with The Beard & Monto being like DAT BEARD IS MINE"_  
> Not exactly what was requested, but it’s the best I could come up with.  
> Additional inspiration from my [current desktop background](http://31.media.tumblr.com/8df56f9e1bdc59cd5b21452fecc8370c/tumblr_inline_mz5w7i0EcH1retybt.png) because Pirlo/wine is my otp.

“Remember when I said I didn’t mind other people touching you?” is at least what Andrea thinks Riccardo is trying to say.  
  
Of course, he could be completely wrong and the mumbled words from somewhere between his cheek and jaw might have nothing to do with him and everything to do with Riccardo’s dirty mind wanting to touch other people.  
  
That, given their circumstances, does not make any sense even in Andrea’s own head, so he sticks with his first interpretation.  
  
“I believe the words were ‘I don’t give a flying shit what they do, you’re still mine’,” he replies and adjusts his position in order to reach his wine glass on the coffee table without pushing Riccardo off his lap, “But yeah, I remember.”  
  
“I don’t!” Riccardo insists, huffing against Andrea’s neck, caressing his jaw line gently with two fingers.  
  
He falls into silence, too intrigued with his fingers combing through Andrea’s beard to continue the conversation. Andrea sips his wine patiently, careful not to spill any, waiting for his companion to continue.  
  
Funny little thing, Riccardo is. So determined to come off as a strong, mature leader in front of others, and yet so very vulnerable when they are alone like this, as if afraid he might do something to break the spell.  
  
Like Riccardo’s spell could ever be broken.  
  
If two bottles of his vintage wine is all it takes for Riccardo to loosen up – to let go of that damn cautiousness and actually speak his mind – Andrea is more than willing to indulge him.  
  
Riccardo shifts in his lap, his long legs flung over the armrest and the last of the distance between them lost as he presses a soft kiss next to Andrea’s ear, his fingers still busy caressing his beard.  
  
Since when did Riccardo pay that much attention to his facial hair? He did grow used to it after the initial shock, yes, but he’s never shown any particular fondness to it before now.  
  
“Gigi’s been awfully touchy lately,” Riccardo whispers before kissing his cheek again, a gentle press of lips lingering on his skin.  
  
“Jealous?” Andrea puts down his wine and wraps his arms around Riccardo’s waist, turns his head just enough to meet his eyes, smiles encouragingly at the uncertainty he sees there.  
  
Riccardo leans his forehead against Andrea’s, pumping their noses together. Warm breath ghosts on Andrea’s lips and he must use all his willpower not to kiss Riccardo, because then the conversation would definitely be over.  
  
“He touches the beard,” Riccardo finally concludes, “I never touch your beard. It’s not fair.”  
  
Contrary to his argument, his both hands are now on Andrea’s face, stroking the hair along his jaw line contemplatively.  
  
Andrea wants to laugh, laugh and pull this silly boy even closer and never let go. But Riccardo looks dead serious and Andrea cannot belittle his feelings.  
  
“Thought you didn’t like the beard?”  
  
“I never said that,” Riccardo huffs out a laugh, “And that’s not the point. He shouldn’t touch my stuff—your—mine—fuck it, he can’t touch things I’m not touching!”  
  
He looks so annoyed with his own inability to make sense that Andrea cannot hold the laughter any longer. He cups Riccardo’s face in his hands and pulls him into the kiss he has been craving for since this exchange started, and Riccardo complies easily.  
  
“I’ll be sure to tell him that,” he assures amusedly, his lips never fully leaving Riccardo’s, “Though I can’t promise he won’t take it as an invitation.”  
  
“He totally will,” Riccardo finally cracks a proper smile and tugs on Andrea’s beard to pull him into another kiss, this time much longer one.  
  
Andrea’s vintage wine is left sitting on the coffee table, long forgot when Riccardo realizes there might be more to the facial hair than mere aesthetics.  
  
Neither of them notices the glass has been pushed down before next morning, and by that time it is too late to salvage Andrea’s antique rug.  
  
And as it turns out, Gigi really does like pissing Riccardo off.


End file.
